


One or the Other

by glacis



Category: Robin Hood BBC
Genre: M/M, PWP First Time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-11-21
Updated: 2009-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-03 11:33:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glacis/pseuds/glacis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin sublimates, Guy has to take a bath… a pwp vignette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One or the Other

One or the Other by glacis. Rated NC-17 - slash (Robin/Guy). Minor spoilers for first two series of Robin Hood (BBC). No infringement intended.

~~

Of all the things he'd expected from a fight with Gisborne, coming hard enough to make his nose bleed wasn't one of them.

Started off as a regular day, really. Think about Marian up at the castle, wish there was someplace to wank where Much couldn't find him, dodge Djaq's knowing look and John's commiserating one, think about treason, think about starving people, think about oblivious lieges, think about lost lands, go out desperately looking for either a fight or somebody to rob so he could stop thinking. Not hearing the welcome chime from Will's trap out on the north road, Robin did what he usually did when he was feeling ornery and needed to work off steam.

Went to what used to be his bedroom and picked a fight with Guy.

It wasn't the first time he'd sublimated desire for Marian into aggression with Guy. It was becoming a bit of a habit, really. Unfortunate, that. Especially since the last time he'd thrown Guy heels over head across the bed he'd been nearly fatally distracted by the flash of white skin between the top of those black leather pants and the bottom of that ridiculously over-buckled jacket. It brought to mind the look on Guy's face when Robin was dangling over the snake pit, feeling his pants droop ever-so-slowly toward his ankles as his shirt rode up over his belly…

Come to think on it, Robin might not be the only man in Nottingham sublimating his desire for Marian into aggression. He loved the woman to distraction, but God knew she could be a distracting prick tease. Especially when she was dressed up in the Night Watchman's leather trousers.

Robin stumbled over a non-existent tree root and nearly ran into the wall next to his bedroom window, as his mental image of Marian in tight brown leather was overlain with a mental image of Guy in tight black leather. Shaking off the disturbing juxtaposition of lover and enemy, uncomfortably aware that the state of his erection (pressing) hadn't wavered when the images switched, he growled under his breath and continued on his way to beat the holy hell out of Guy Gisborne.

Perhaps he should have taken a dip in a cold stream beforehand. As it was, his distraction proved his, er, undoing.

~~

Guy Gisborne bit his tongue hard enough to taste blood and reminded himself for the seventy fourth time that day that it would be bad �" bad �" a BAD idea �" to kill the Sheriff with his bare hands. No matter how much fun it would be and how very deserving the disgusting little pervert was of immediate and terminal violent attention.

Although if Vassey threatened to kiss him one more time, sudden death just might happen. Either the Sheriff would die painfully and messily or Guy would eat his own sword.

Thankfully before it got to the point where all of Nottingham would be hazed because the Master of Arms could no longer contain his disgust at the sexual harassment from his superior, the Sheriff was distracted by something shiny (and bloody �" looked like another messenger from the King would not be returning to the Holy Land) and Guy was free to return home to Locksley.

Once there, he snarled at the guards until they went away, snarled at the servants until they left him to his bath in peace, then snarled under his breath at himself until he finally felt some measure of calm. Drying off, he slipped back into his comfortable leather pants (because God knew the Sheriff wasn't above sneaking into his bed chamber and molesting him, and by the time the disgusting little pervert got the leather unlaced Guy would be awake enough to kill him). Wandering toward his bed, angry thoughts of the disgusting little pervert were displaced by the presence of the other sneaky little bastard that made his life living hell. Robin Hood slouched against his bedpost, looking smug and arrogant and irritating, as always.

Guy ignored the fact that he looked kind of cute, too, in a scruffy, underfed-squirrel sort of way. Even had the short reddish fur everywhere if the glimpse he'd had of Robin's belly as he hung over the snake pit was anything to go by. Not that Guy ever thought about that. Nor had he ever thought about the phallic implications of poking Robin's writhing body hard with a really long wooden pole and enjoying every moment of it. Oh, no, he never thought of that. Consciously. Ever.

"Locksley!" Guy bellowed, and charged forward to engage Robin in battle, completely forgetting, as he was wont to do when he was in heat… in the heat of battle… that by rights he himself should be called Locksley, and Robin was simply Hood now.

Not that it mattered. The sneaky little shit dove under his sweeping arms, evading his crushing grip with a move a snake would envy, and came up behind him. Guy whirled around, dodging the expected blow that would have taken his head off.

Only there wasn't one. Instead of punching him, Robin was staring at his chest with big round eyes and murmuring something that sounded like "smooth" or maybe "cream," Guy couldn't hear well enough to tell. Not taking the time to unravel the knotted thought processes of the lunatic in front of him, Guy rushed forward again, intent on getting his hands around Robin's throat.

He didn't quite make it.

Robin woke up from whatever weird trance he'd gone into and jumped, apparently in an attempt to get out of the way. He didn't quite make it, either. Showing none of his usual frustrating agility and grace, Robin ended up jumping ON the bed instead of over it, and Guy, showing his own usual frustrating inability to fight like a trained warrior instead of a bumbling fool (this only happened when fighting Robin, for some reason), caught his foot in the bed clothes and crashed face-first into Robin, knocking them both into an ungainly pile of limbs in the middle of the bed.

With Guy's face mashed into Robin's crotch.

A yelp of "Holy Mother of God!" came from a few feet above his head as Guy opened his mouth to curse and ended up with a mouthful of leather. Leather that had seen too many days in the forest with no soap and too much sweat, dirt, leaves, and, from the smell of it, semen. Guy put his arms out to push himself away from the pungent odor but somehow found them wrapped around Robin's hips, getting a nice firm grip on a nice firm arse.

This… was unexpected.

~~

From bad to worse, Robin thought somewhat hysterically, looking down at Guy's face nuzzling against his erection. The man had ridiculously long eyelashes. And a very firm grip.

He should have known it was going to be a fiasco when he'd found the bedroom empty, only to have a glistening damp Gisborne walk in wearing nothing but those insanely well fitted leather trousers. By the time Robin got his brain back out of his pants, the fight was on. Fortunately, Guy was as clumsy as he usually was, and Robin should have been able to avoid him easily, knock him around and make a fool of him.

So much for that plan. For once, Robin's reflexes were wildly off, and in an instant, he was splayed on the bed with Guy draped over him. Long fingers tightened on his arse and he bucked involuntarily, giving a squeal he would deny he'd made. Guy looked up with a look of disgust twisting his handsome face.

"Do you ever bathe?" he sneered.

Robin was too busy shaking off the thought that he'd considered Gisborne 'handsome' to reply. Happily, he was used to mouthing off without thinking, and his subconscious took over, to his delight �"er, dismay.

"If you don't like it, do something about it!" he sniped, one hand reaching down automatically and flicking open his lacings. His prick, freed from its leather prison, practically smacked Guy in the mouth.

Guy smirked. Robin froze (well, most of him. His prick was still greedily waving in the breeze).

"Want something, Robin?" Guy sneered again, and the opening, pardon the pun, was too perfect to ignore. It was only after Robin stuck his prick in Guy's mouth that he found himself praying the bastard didn't bite.

Guy looked shocked, eyes rounding and nearly crossing to look down at the bulk now stretching his jaw. He was just getting a firmly disapproving look on his face when three things happened in quick succession.

Robin thrust… slipped down the bed from the force of the movement… and rubbed against Guy's erection with his shin. Firmly.

With a gurgle much like a drowning man might make, Guy tightened his grip on Robin's arse, sucked as hard as he could on Robin's prick, and ground his own prick into Robin's leg.

Right. So, Guy didn't bite. Didn't choke, either, which opened a world of delightful possibilities in the filthier depths of Robin's imagination. He couldn't think much beyond those lovely possibilities because his brain was quickly being melted down and sucked out the end of his prick. He was vaguely aware that words were falling from his mouth, but couldn't for the life of him stop. Both his hands were buried in Guy's hair, and who knew it would be so silky and soft and make such wonderful reins? A little pull to the left, to the right, in tight, and oh, God, so good, so very very good, his Guy was so very very very good.

Things got fuzzy after that. Not that they hadn't been fuzzy before, but they got REALLY fuzzy after that. Robin attributed it to his coming hard enough to make his nose bleed.

Of course, the fact that Guy was just as good with his prick as he was with his mouth could have been a contributing factor in Robin's inability to think, move, fight, or do much of anything but babble and moan.

~~

"My God, Robin, do you ever shut up?" Guy glared after he pulled his mouth off the spent prick, which tasted much better than he'd expected it to (not that he'd thought about it, at all, of course, no, never). Robin was still blithering on, and getting a bit possessive if the pronouns were anything to go by. Guy considered crawling up the bed and shoving something bulky in the man's mouth to get that tongue busy on a worthwhile endeavor, like sucking him dry, but figured Robin would still manage to talk, and probably bite him as well. Which left only one thing to do, really.

Twisting deftly, wondering why he couldn't move like that when they were both dressed and trying to kill one another, Guy slithered up the bed. Settling behind Robin, it was the work of a moment to shove the loosened trousers firmly down the solid thighs, hands lingering along the way, bringing up goose bumps on the soft skin. Yes, Robin was as furry as Guy had expected him to be. It was just a little erotic.

The way Robin writhed under his hands was more than just a little erotic. Guy snarled under his breath, a different tenor to his snarling than earlier in the evening. Then, he'd been complaining. He was still whining, but there was more desperation in his tone. Leather was only comfortable when one wasn't hard as a rock and leaking like a sieve.

Wrestling with his own laces, he sighed with relief when he freed himself. The bite of cold air on hot flesh helped steady him… wouldn't do to come before he could even get seated, and give the little bastard more reasons to laugh at him. Hands once more on that firm arse, enjoying the contrast of soft skin over hard muscle much more than manky leather, Guy spread Robin's arse wide and worked his prick in.

This prompted an interrogatory noise in the midst of Robin's babble, which quickly gave way to a moan and a rather interesting squeak as Guy thrust home. Then Guy's world narrowed to heat and tight and hard and now, barely cognizant of Robin thrusting back against him as he thrust forward, and why on earth had he wasted so much time fighting Robin when he could have been fucking him?

Time lost meaning, though Guy feared it hadn't been nearly as long as he'd hoped, before he pumped in one last time and held it, jerking a few times as he emptied himself. Robin tightened around him, and Guy nearly passed out from the intensity of the sensation. Things got a little fuzzy for a few moments.

Then reality crashed in like a rock to the head, as Robin ripped himself away, drawing whimpers from both of them at the sudden separation (not that either would ever admit to the sound. Or anything else that happened in the room that night. Robin wouldn't, as he never did find a good place to wank, and Guy wouldn't, as he was paranoid about the Sheriff eavesdropping). Guy looked up accusingly at Robin, holding his bereft prick in both hands.

Robin looked like he'd been pole-axed. Well, pole-axed and very well fucked. Guy tried to smirk, but had a horrible feeling his expression held a little too much sap to make it work. If anything, Robin looked even more frazzled.

"You… I… we… augh! Marian!" Scrabbling at his trousers, Robin scrambled for the window and fell more than climbed out of it. Guy heard him breaking tree branches and blithering on to himself for quite some time before the sound finally died away.

Tearing his eyes from the window, Guy looked at the disaster his bed had become, his leather trousers now far from clean, and sighed before snarling one more time.

"Wonderful. Now I have to take another bath."

the END


End file.
